


The Bull and The Wolf

by sunflowerjohnny



Series: season 8 drabbles [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bonding, F/M, Fluff, Pass it on, Post season 8 ep 3, Sibling Bonding, arya fucking stark saved the seven kingdoms, spoilersish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 17:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18642844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerjohnny/pseuds/sunflowerjohnny
Summary: It was Tryion, who was hidden behind a large chair in front of the fire, still drunk out of his mind from the feast earlier, who spoke up, “I do believe the hound meant that mating season had come early for the wolf and the bull.”





	The Bull and The Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> I am VERY contempt with last night's (it's 12 pm where I'm from) episode! So here's something light after the intense battle.

The sound of her heart beating was deafening.

Her heavy breathing was painful as she looked down at the icy ashes.

He was dead.

The Night King was dead.

And she was the one who killed him.

Arya didn’t think that she would be able to do it, all that was running through her mind as she escaped Winterfell and made it towards the Weirwood trees was _not today, not today, not today._ A mantra she vividly remembers reciting to herself over and over again back in King’s Landing and when she was traveling through King’s Road with Gendry.

_Gendry…_

The thought of him seemed to snap her back at reality. She took one long glance at Bran, making sure that he was unharmed, before bolting towards the castle.

Thousands upon thousands of bodies were piled around her. But she didn’t look at their faces, too afraid to recognize someone she knew. The cries of the living were haunting as she made her way to the gates and scanned where the archers stood.

_Badum_

_Badum_

_Badum_

She was getting nervous with each passing second she failed to recognize that comforting face.

She wasn’t going to cry but she sure felt like it. She was about to turn, head to another direction and look for him somewhere else when she spotted him coming down the stairs that lead to one of the towers.

“Gendry,” She breathed out his name in relief.

“Arya.” He sounded like he was choking on his sob.

Arya’s legs picked up and she ran towards him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his large figure as attached her lips to his, uncaring of the blood and dirt covering her face.

“You’re alright, you’re alright, you’re alright.”

The kiss was rushed, full of urgency and yearning. They were trying to show their gratitude, to tell the other yes, I made it.

They didn’t care about the onlookers.

About Brienne who discreetly looked away to give them a moment of privacy.

About Jaime who smiled in amusement despite the hell he’d been through.

And about Podrick who had a knowing smile on his.

When Arya broke apart from Gendry, she had the biggest smile on her lips. She didn’t care that her eyes were filling up with tears because so were Gendry’s.

 

“Do you love him?”

Arya didn’t look away from the filed below where men and women picked up the dead and buried them.

“I do.” She replied.

She didn’t move as the person stood next to her.

“How do you even know him?”

Arya looked up at Jon with a coy smile, “We had our fair share of trouble.”

Jon chuckled but he still looked troubled.

“He’s a Baratheon.” He didn’t add the _are you ok with that_ part.

“I know.”

 

“Of all the people,” Sandor muttered as he stood next to her in the dining hall for a night of celebration, “You picked him?”

Arya smirked, not looking at the scarred man, “Why, do you disapprove?” she asked mockingly. She tried not to chuckle as he grumbled something incomprehensible at her, probably _fuck off_.

“Don’t you want a sweet little pup like, Podrick?”

This time Arya chuckled. Of all the things Arya had imagined how the aftermath of the Great War would be, having idle chatter with Sandor about her love life wasn’t one of them.

“Why have a pup when I have a bull?”

 

“So, does this make you Lady Arya Baratheon?” Sansa asked amusingly while leaning close and whispering in her ear as they feasted at the head of the table, ignoring the drunken cheers.

Arya smirk, “I much rather like the sound of Lord Gendry Stark,” she turned to lock gazes with her sister, “Don’t you agree?”

It’s been a very long time since the two sisters had shared a sincere and genuine smile at one another, it felt…enchanting.

 

“So when’s the wedding?”

Arya didn’t know much about Tormund, the Giants Bane, but she quiet liked him. Especially with how he managed to make Brienne squirm like that, it was entertaining.

“W-wedding?” Jon chocked on his spit while Gendry blushed beside him, stealing quick glances and making sure to bolt out the door if necessary, “Who’s wedding?”

“The Tiny Warrior,” the ginger pointed at Arya, slightly worried over Jon’s confusion.

“She’s too young.”

Arya raised her eyebrow at Jon, “I am of age.” She reminded.

Tormund seemed satisfied, “So when is it? I’ve never seen Southern weddings before.”

Arya opened her mouth, ready to correct him but refrained from doing so as Jon shook his head.

“Soon if she wants to fit in that fucking dress.”

Arya’s head snapped towards Sandor, who’s eyes widened as big as saucers. They both glanced at where Jon stood, hoping that he didn’t hear what the drunken hound had said.

“What?” Jon asked.

Arya could see the panic in Gendry’s eyes as he stepped away from him and inched closer towards her.

“What.” Arya repeated.

Jon scanned the fidgeting trio in front of him.

“What did he mean?”

Arya glanced at Sandor, masking her nervousness, “What did who mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me Arya.”

Arya looked innocently up at Jon.

It was Tryion, who was hidden behind a large chair in front of the fire, still drunk out of his mind from the feast earlier, who spoke up, “I do believe the hound meant that mating season had come early for the wolf and the bull.”

“WHAT?”

Arya wasn’t sure how but she swears that she’ll kill Tyrion. Dragon Queen be damned.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me
> 
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